Error of Fate
by Jaina Solo2
Summary: AU story. Summer of 1981. What if a tragedy had occured before Irina could be extracted? How would their lives change?
1. Chapter I

Disclaimer: I do not own Alias and I'm making no money off of this.  
  
Summary: An AU story set in the summer of 1981. Things don't go as anticipated and Irina has to deal with the consequences.  
  
Summer, 1981 Undisclosed location, Eastern Europe  
  
Jack Bristow stood over the man in front of him. He wasn't certain of the man's name, but Jack was well aware of the man's affiliation. Jack had been tracking the man's whereabouts and activities for the past year and a half as part of his current mission for the CIA. All signs pointed to this man being a member of the KGB. Jack had, in fact, confirmed that information shortly after he had captured the man the day before. That wasn't all of the information that he had obtained. The report that he would file when he returned to Los Angeles would be sizable and include more new and valuable information about the KGB's targets, missions in progress, and their undercover agents, than the CIA had been able to obtain in quite some time.  
  
At the moment, however, none of that mattered to Jack. He was still standing in mild surprise, tinged with amusement over the man. He had just told Jack after a significant amount of....persuasion that the recent mole in the CIA was not in fact a mole from inside the CIA, rather the mole was the wife of one of the CIA's most trusted officers. The woman's current alias was Laura Bristow. Jack hadn't been able to stifle a laugh behind his usual implacable features. The man's story was so incredibly ludicrous. Even Jack's suspicion honed mind refused to believe it. His Laura would never be capable of the cold blooded assassinations that the mole was accused of committing. She loved him more than anything, except perhaps for their daughter and he felt the same way. No, it was an idea so preposterous it wasn't even worth thinking about.  
  
Jack prepared himself to continue interrogating the man, starting with extracting the true answer of the mole's identity. The man he was interrogating likely didn't know that he was Laura Bristow's husband or how much he would pay for trying to pin those crimes on his interrogator's wife.  
  
"Jack." The friendly voice of Arvin Sloane, his current partner at the CIA, from behind him, made Jack turn around in surprise. Arvin wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be monitoring the area from the surveillance system that they had set up outside. It was a reasonable precaution given that any number of hostile agents could be looking for them at that very moment.  
  
Arvin walked over to Jack and clasped a friendly hand on Jack's back, ignoring Jack's disapproving glare. "How's this going, Jack? Does our friend here have any useful information?"  
  
Jack noticed the look of hungry, almost predatory interest on Arvin's face. This was different and far from the usual affable image that Arvin usually presented to the public. Jack wondered suddenly what his friend's personal interest in this was and why this whole situation was suddenly worrying him. "He does." Jack answered shortly and bluntly. "I'll assemble the report on the way back to the States. Until then you can continue the surveillance while I finish up with this interrogation."  
  
Jack knew that he was being blunt, but he would worry about bad manners later. Even in this relatively safe moment, he wouldn't forget that he was out in the field or the dangers that that included.  
  
Arvin seemed to transform in front of his eyes. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I'm afraid that I can't do that." His voice was low and cold, colored by regret. "You see, our KGB agent has revealed too much information. He knows too much to be allowed to live."  
  
"What are you talking about, Arvin? The CIA doesn't summarily execute prisoners, nor is that decision left up to field agents in a non life or death situation."  
  
"You can't be that blind, Jack. You know that there are more forces at work than the CIA." He cocked his head. "This man has intelligence that could be potentially damaging to a number of people. You see, Jack, it's in my best interest for this man not to return to the United States or to even live long enough to begin that journey." The man on the floor began to whimper as Arvin took several steps back. "He has revealed information that was previously unknown to the CIA. His knowledge of the true mole at the CIA, for example. That also means that he has access to other information within the KGB that I need to destroy. It isn't time yet for the CIA to know about my.....extracurricular activities." Before Jack could move, Sloane had removed his gun from its holster and pointed it towards Jack and the prisoner.  
  
"Arvin," Jack tried to remain calm. This situation had slipped out of his control in an instant. For once his mind was having trouble processing the total implications of this new information. A few things, however, were clear in his mind. Arvin Sloane was not his friend and he was also a threat.  
  
Sloane didn't seem to be paying attention to what Jack was saying, however. He was too intensely focused. For a moment, Jack thought he saw flash of regret pass over Sloane's face and then it was gone. "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is good bye. You're too patriotic for your own good, Jack."  
  
Jack lunged forward at the same moment that Sloane squeezed off two shots. He wasn't nearly fast enough, however. Jack Bristow dropped to the floor, silent and unmoving. Two more shots rang out. Arvin Sloane walked away into the night with a small smile, content in the knowledge that his somewhat questionable activities were once again safe from discovery. He missed his wife. Three weeks of absence from Emily was almost unbearable to him. It would be good to see Sydney as well. After all once he carefully released the information that Irina was a KGB plant and she was extracted, Sydney would officially be an orphan.  
  
Then she would become his child, his and Emily's. They would have the perfect family and when she grew up, she would fulfill the prophecy for him. It was the best outcome for everyone. He would have a beautiful daughter and he would achieve Rambaldi's greatest prophecy. This mission had turned out better than he could ever have hoped.  
  
Late Afternoon Los Angeles  
  
Heat clung to the air as Laura Bristow stepped out of her car. The air shimmered as it rose off of the dark asphalt around her as she walked towards the open gates of the small elementary school where Sydney was taking swimming lessons during the summer. Her daughter was due to finish in just a few minutes and she was there to pick her up.  
  
It only took her a few moments to enter the small room where the parents were required to wait for their children. Laura glanced tiredly around the small room, noting the yellowed posters reminding parents about long outdated Girl Scout meetings beside others that bore the usual public service announcements. She gazed unseeingly at one poster with bold letters and numbers, loudly proclaiming the telephone number of the local poison prevention center, as her mind drifted back to her earlier meeting with her handler. She had wanted to beg and plead with him about any information he might have about Jack, but that was impossible.  
  
If he received even the slightest hint that she actually cared about Jack, it would be a death sentence for both she and Jack and Sydney. She was worried, though, about Jack. He had returned home late from missions before, but he had never been this late. He had been gone for almost two weeks longer than he had told her and his secretary at the CIA was stonewalling her.  
  
Laura felt her fist clench in involuntarily in fear and frustration. There was nothing that she could do to help Jack. That would destroy them all, but she didn't have to cheerfully accept that fact. She closed her eyes slowly and leaned back into her uncomfortable chair.  
  
Unbidden the image of the last time that she had seen Jack played in her mind. She could almost feel his lips on hers as they exchanged one final, searing good bye kiss. The memory did little to ease her worry, but it did bring a momentary shadow of a smile to her face even as the pain of missing him doubled in her chest.  
  
"Mommy, Mommy," the excited voice of her daughter and the clamor of running children brought her sharply out of her thoughts.  
  
"Sydney," she greeted her daughter with equal enthusiasm, her smile widening as the little girl ran towards her. Laura opened her arms wide and caught Sydney in a warm embrace. She held her daughter tightly to her chest and gently stroked her daughter's still damp hair with one hand. "Did you have fun today," she asked pushing all of her worries and fears away in the face of her daughter's youthful innocence. She listened with patient silence as Sydney chattered about her lesson.  
  
Even at a young age, Sydney was already becoming very athletic and she loved her swimming lessons. As Sydney spoke, Laura studied her daughter carefully. Most people who saw her with her parents, saw only Sydney's obvious resemblance to her mother. Laura, however, never saw that. Instead she saw more of Jack in Sydney. She saw his large ears and his fierce stubbornness, although she supposed they could both take credit for that.  
  
She wondered as she and Sydney walked towards the car, just what Sydney would be like as an adult. Would she favor one parent over the other? What would her mannerisms be like? Who would Sydney become and what would her life be like? They were questions Laura often asked herself. Usually right before she reminded herself that she would never get to see or know Sydney as a grown woman. It was a sobering thought and one that made Laura cling all the harder to the time that she had now, the time that could come to an end at any moment without notice. One little missed detail could blow her cover to the CIA and one wrong move could betray her true feelings for Jack to the KGB. At any time she could be forced to leave Sydney and Jack behind forever. It was a thought that she had faced countless times in her nightmares.  
  
When Laura pulled into the driveway of their modest home a little over half of an hour later, she immediately noticed the dark blue sedan parked in front of the house. The part of her mind that operated under constant suspicion noted that the sedan was a Government Issue car. A chill ran down her spine and all the events of the day, both before and after she had met with her handler flashed through her mind. As far as she could remember nothing suspicious or unusual had happened. Her meeting with her handler had been short and she was certain that she hadn't been followed.  
  
She smiled calmly as she walked around to unfasten Sydney's seatbelt and let her daughter out of the car. The oppressive heat in the air was forgotten as she clutched Sydney's hand tightly in her own and waited for the men in the car to approach them. She didn't recognize either of the men as they approached, but she easily pegged them as agents.  
  
The first man, and the older of the two, was the first one to speak to her. His face was solemn, but gentle. He couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Mrs. Bristow," he asked with a gravelly voice.  
  
"Yes," she replied with uncertainty that didn't have to be faked.  
  
"I'm a colleague of your husband's. My associate and I need to have a word with you. May we go inside?"  
  
Laura's smile faltered, but she nodded, "Of course," she turned back to the house, resisting the urge to scoop Sydeny up tightly in her arms in a futile gesture of reassurance. The realities of being the wife of a CIA agent and of her own precarious situation where confronting her sharply at the moment and whatever the agents where there for, she didn't think they were bringing good news.  
  
"Is Jack okay? Did something happen to him?" She half-turned to open the door of their home and caught the grimace on the face of both agents. They didn't answer. Her heart clenched in her chest as she offered them a seat on the couch and gently ushered Sydney into her own room. "Why don't you play in here for a little while, Sydney? I need to talk to these men."  
  
Sydney's smile was obedient but not as exuberant as it had been a few moments ago. She seemed to sense Laura's seriousness. "Okay, Mama," she said quietly.  
  
Laura turned to leave the room. "Mama?" Sydney's call stopped her before she had even left the room. "Mama will Daddy be home tonight?" The plaintive note in Sydney's voice made Laura's heartache. Sydney missed Jack as much as she did. Laura wished that she could promise Sydney that everything would be okay and that he would be home soon, just to see Sydney's eyes light up with happiness, but that wasn't possible. "I don't know, Sweetheart." She said softly, "I miss him too."  
  
Seeing Sydney's face fall made her want to rush back over and comfort her daughter, but there was nothing she could say to make up for Jack's absence. She just hoped for many reasons that he got a little time off when he finally returned home.  
  
The two agents were waiting for her where she had left them in the living room, still standing in front of the sofa. She looked questioningly between the two men. Finally the first man stepped forward again, awkwardly. "Ma'am, you might want to sit down." She didn't protest his gentle suggestion. "Mrs. Bristow you are aware that your husband was on a mission?"  
  
"Ye-" the man's inadvertent use of the past tense when reffering to Jack almost immediately caught her attention. "What do you mean 'was on a mission'? Is Jack coming home?"  
  
"No, Ma'am I'm afraid not." He straightened up, drawing himself to his full height. Formally he announced, "Mrs. Bristow, I regret to inform you that your husband is dead." 


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I own none of this. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas- oops! Wrong story there. Here try this one. I don't own Alias or any of its ideas or characters. That all belongs to JJ Abrams.

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long wait between updates. Fanfiction.net wouldn't let me upload this for a while for some reason.

Jack was dead.  
  
Jack. Was. Dead.  
  
_JackwasdeadJackwasdeadJackwasdeadJackwasdead  
_  
The words turned into a senseless litany in Laura's mind as she stared blankly at the agents in front of her.  
  
"No."  
  
Jack couldn't be dead. He was far too good of an agent. He was the best that the CIA had to offer and as much as she had her doubts about Arvin Sloane, he hadn't failed to protect Jack yet. No, Irina decided this wasn't possible.  
  
"Ma'am?" The second agent's voice was gentle and the look that he directed at Irina was full of pity.  
  
She wanted to scream at him in contempt and tell him to stop. Her husband, her Jack was not dead. She could feel the scream rising up in her throat, and she choked it back. She couldn't do this here, in front of these men- these agents. There was too much to consider. It could be a test to determine her loyalty. The CIA could be testing her cover, to see if she was really the loving wife that she seemed. The KGB could be trying to determine if she had developed an emotional attachment to her target. Those were the best case scenarios. Irina didn't let herself consider the worse case scenarios or what would happen if Jack really was dead. What would happen to her? Or to Sydney?  
  
The last thought froze her cold and she paled. It wasn't a condition that she had to fake. "What happened?" She seemed to be detached from the whole situation, as if she were outside of herself. Irina wondered if this was a result of her KGB training or if this was how all supposedly widowed women reacted.  
  
She listened to the men talk, giving her formal explanations and expounding with phrases that meant nothing. That was what they were telling her: nothing. Either they knew nothing, or they were concealing the truth from her: classified information. For whatever reason they weren't telling her what she wanted to know. Even as Irina ushered the men out of her home, with fake pleas to be left alone with her grief, her mind was working in high gear, contemplating if she could go to her handler for information or not.  
  
Of course, he would give her information on the situation. Alexander would be the one to tell her whether Jack was truly dead or not- if he wasn't playing her, that is. But she would need confirmation, or help in getting out of the country if her cover had been blown. And if Jack was truly dead, then she would need help of another kind. This help she could only get from one person. Hunting down the man who had murdered her husband, and murdering him brutally would not be an activity that Alexander would approve of. In fact, it would probably get her brought up on charges of treason. If this was true, if any of this were true, or even if it weren't, she needed help. She needed her sister. She had resisted using the contact number that Katya had given her for almost a decade. Now she needed all of the help that her sister could give her.  
  
Irina let out a deep breath and sagged back against the door as she closed it behind the two agents.  
  
"Mama?"  
  
Her head shot up. "Yes, Sydney?" Her voice was calm and controlled. This was hell, she realized abruptly. She would have to tell her daughter that Jack was dead because that was what she had been told and that was what she was supposed to believe. If she didn't respond accordingly, there was every chance that the CIA would notice and that simply couldn't be allowed to happen. The thought of having to tell Sydney that her father was dead made her breath catch in her lungs. This was not something she had ever expected to deal with.  
  
"Mama why are you crying?" Sydney's soft, worried and slightly scared voice tore at Irina's heart. She wished there was something, anything else that she could say, instead of what she had to say. Irina wished that Sydney hadn't been inadvertently caught up in the world in which she and Jack both risked their lives. She wished there was a way to shield her daughter, and protect her cheerful innocence.  
  
"Sweetheart, come here. I have to tell you something."  
  
============================================================================ ===  
  
Arvin Sloane sat in the spartan office of his supervisor, Ben Devlin, with one of his fellow agents, William Vaughn. Sandwiches and freshly poured day old coffee, surrounded by piles of paperwork, sat forgotten in front of each of the men. The room was filled with tense grim silence. Bright LA sunshine filtered through the room, serving not to lighten the atmosphere in the room, but seeming to make it all the more tragic.  
  
"Jack's death has to be the work of the mole," Bill spoke angrily. He hadn't been close to Jack Bristow, but the death of any fellow agent was a cause for anger and swift retribution, especially when it looked as if the traitor where one of their own. The attack on them would not go unpunished.  
  
"That's what I want you to find out." Devlin's voice was marginally calmer, but no less filled with terrible anger. He had been doing this job for longer than either of the agents in front of him, and he understood their reactions to the death of their colleague, but he also understood the big picture better than their immediate concern for vengeance. For all that he was saddened by the death of one of one of his best agents- a truly good man- he had to consider the other agents under his command, those that were still alive. "We don't have much in the way of leads on this mole or pertaining to Jack's murder, but that's what I want you to find. Use any of your contacts that you need to do this, don't leave any stone unturned. I want this person found and I want him dealt with. Have a report on your progress on my desk by the end of the week, Bill," he said sharply, "I want to be kept up to date on this one."  
  
"I want to be part of this investigation." It was the first time that Arvin had spoken since the meeting had begun.  
  
"Arvin," Devlin began carefully. He knew that Arvin had been close friends with his partner, but this was against Agency regulations. Too often, when this was the case, the investigation only ended badly- for everyone.  
  
"No!" Arvin shoved his chair roughly away from the desk, slamming his hand down on the table as he rose. The motion jarred his cup of coffee and sent it spilling onto the desk, emptying its dark contents on the pile of papers next to it. None of the men noticed. This was the first time that they had ever seen the self- contained Arvin Sloane respond emotionally to anything. He seemed to be good friends with Jack and he was polite, but he wasn't terribly outgoing or emotional. Both men were shocked. "No," he said again, softer this time, but he didn't lose any of his edge of intense anger. "You have to let me be apart of this investigation. I was the one who was supposed to be watching Jack's back on that mission. I was his partner and he died." There was a strangled note of finality in his voice that seemed to take the wind out of his sails. His voice was small when he spoke again. "I have to do this. I have to find Jack's killer. He should pay for what he's done."  
  
Devlin considered the situation for a moment. He didn't usually let an Agent's personal feelings determine how he would respond to a situation, but this wasn't a normal situation. This was a special circumstance. Bill Vaughn was capable of handling the investigation himself, but there was more to consider here. Arvin apparently felt responsible for Jack's death- a charge of which the limited evidence had immediately cleared him from- and if this was what Arvin needed to do to deal with the death of his partner, Devlin was willing to allow him to participate in the mission. The Agency needed more good men like Arvin Sloane and if this was what Sloane needed to do, then he would allow his Agent that much leeway at least.  
  
Ten minutes later, standing alone in the parking garage as he stepped into his car, Arvin Sloane allowed himself to smile. His next plan was already in motion. In fact, things were working better than he had expected. Bill Vaughn was a competent Agent and a man that he had previously had little contact with. Bill also shared the same level of clearance as he and Jack, with access to the same information- the same information that had recently been leaked. It would be simple enough for Arvin to frame Bill Vaughn for the activities of the mole and for the death of Jack Bristow. He would have the perfect position to expose the deception from inside the investigation and he would come out looking like the CIA's newest hero. It also wouldn't be too hard to arrange for Vaughn to have an unfortunate accident before the CIA found a way to question him too closely or to discover that Vaughn was the real mole or killer. Sloane smiled.  
  
================================================================  
  
Moscow, USSR  
  
"Katya, darling," the Ambassador drawled languidly into her ear, as his hands rested possessively on her hips, "There is a call waiting for you- on the secure line," he added a moment later.  
  
She turned slowly in his arms, careful not to let the surprise, and the sudden rush of fear that had accompanied it, show on her face. There was only one person who would call her using that emergency contact number. Irina. That could only mean one thing. Something had happened to her, something that Irina couldn't handle herself. Katya had known that the day would come. She had seen the signs that Alexander, her sister's handler, had missed. Even the few surveillance photos that she had managed secure over the years painted a picture that both pleased and frightened her.  
  
She had seen immediately what the KGB was missing. Irina was in love with her target. If it had been up to Katya, she would have extracted her sister the moment that she saw that first photo, three years after her sister went undercover, and she never would have allowed Irina to have a child. The instant loyalty between mother and daughter would not be broken by mere patriotic duty, especially when Irina loved the child's father.  
  
It was a dangerous game that Irina had played, and now the price of the game that Irina had played had come back to haunt her. That was irrelevant, however. Irina was her sister and she would do whatever was necessary to help her sister, even if it meant sleeping with a brutish pig, like her Ambassador for a decade so that she could maintain a way to contact her sister. Of course the information that she managed to steal from her Ambassador and sell to the highest bidder for a great deal of money was also a good incentive.  
  
The phone was cold and hard in her hand. For the first time, Katya felt strangely reticent as she picked up the phone. Would her sister be a complete stranger after ten years of living as an American?  
  
"Irina?" Her voice betrayed nothing of her momentary hesitation. She was by nature bold and impulsive. Hesitation and insecurity had never held sway over her for long. Caution was another story, however.  
  
"Katya?" The voice was cautious, but even through the distortion of the phone lines, Katya could hear the relief in her sister's voice. "Katya, I need your help." Irina's voice was low, as if she didn't want to be overheard and Katya tensed, this time with worry.  
  
"What's the matter 'Rina?" She asked quickly.  
  
"They say that he's dead, Katya."  
  
Katya's voice was careful as she replied. "Who's dead, little sister?"  
  
"My hus-target, Jack Bristow. The CIA claims that he died on a mission. I don't believe them, and I want to know what happened. I need the information from someone that I can trust."  
  
Katya considered Irina's request for a moment and then thought about what her sister wasn't saying. "You don't trust Alexander?" The question was rhetorical and Katya knew it. She didn't pause to wait for her sister's response. Instead she asked another question. "Shouldn't you simply be happy that your mission is over now? You can come home 'Rina, free of that capitalist Bastard! You can come home and see Mama and 'Lena again."  
  
Silence greeted Katya. It was only for an instant, but it was all of the confirmation that Katya hadn't wanted to receive. There was no question now that Irina was in love with her target. Katya couldn't help but wonder for an instant what was so wonderful about this Jack Bristow that her sister would betray her country, the ideals that she had once believed in and endanger the lives of their family that was still living in Russia.  
  
"Katya," Irina's voice was sharp almost brittle, "Can you get the information or not?"  
  
Katya matched her sister's tone easily. She wasn't feeling particularly happy with her sister at the moment, either. Irina had always been stubborn, but she had rarely been this foolish. "Of course, I can, Irina." She started to add something else, but stopped. She would help Irina. Loyalty and family demanded it, but she didn't have to like what Irina was doing. It was dangerous, a risk without reward.  
  
"Thank you, Katya," the relief in Irina's voice was almost painful to hear.  
  
"I do this for you, sister, not him. I'll contact you again in two days. Try not to get yourself killed between now and then, 'Rina."  
  
The phone disconnected with a soft click. Despite the fact that Katya now had much work to do in the next forty-eight hours, she remained still, leaning up against the desk behind her. She would do what Irina had asked, but she would also begin to set other things in motion. Preventative measures and things to insure Irina's safety could easily be set in motion now, in case they were needed later. Irina might not be thinking at her best at the moment. Perhaps ten years spent in the soft, easy life of an American woman had dulled the immediacy of some of Irina's more painful memory of Mother Russia, but Katya had not forgotten. She would do as much to protect Irina as she could.  
  
===================================================================  
  
Los Angeles  
  
Two Days Later  
  
Irina Derevko was dressed in black. Not in the stiff formal dress that she had worn several hours ago to her husband's funeral, but in the clothing of an assassin. The cold wood of the gun stock pressed against her cheek as she stared into the scope of her gun and looked down at her target reminded her of the hard pew where she had sat motionless listening to the priest perform her husband's funeral. Sydney had sat silently in her lap. Her arms had wrapped tightly around her daughter's small body. Her daughter who would have usually protested such a protracted embrace had made no move to get away. If anything she had moved closer to her mother. Irina wasn't sure how much Sydney had understood of the funeral, but her daughter did know one thing. Her Daddy was not coming home.  
  
As she held Sydney then, seeing the tears the streamed down her daughter's face and the way that Sydney had clung to her, Irina had allowed herself to cry. She had felt like crying, sobbing and screaming with rage many times since the early hours of that morning when Katya had finally called her. Irina almost wished that Katya hadn't called. The funeral was the first time that she had let herself cry.  
  
Crying in public was not in her nature, nor was letting anyone see a weakness in her, but crying in the privacy of her home was not justifiable as a part of her cover. It was a fine line that she was forced to walk. It was the life that she had chosen for herself at the age of eighteen. She couldn't change her past choices now, or even make some bold statement of love for her husband, not if she wanted to Sydney to remain alive.  
  
Irina had retained no illusions about what would happen to Sydney if she flexed the muscles of her freedom by defying the KGB. Alexander had subtly but plainly made it clear that her daughter would be the one to pay the price if she disobeyed her orders.  
  
What she was doing now, this action that she was about to take, was not sanctioned by the KBG. It was perhaps, her last act of careful defiance and the only statement of her love for Jack. She had to admit, selfishly, that this was for her as well. The moment she had learned of the identity of her husband's killer, she had been filled with a desire for vengeance. This was the blood of one person that she would not mind having on her hands.  
  
She watched patiently as the figure drifted into the crosshairs of her scope. This was the face of the man that had destroyed her life with Jack. Her hand was steady as she squeezed the trigger of the rifle.  
  
Bill Vaughn fell to the ground- instantly dead- outside of the large doors to the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency as she walked calmly away from her roof top perch. She and her daughter would be extracted and returned to Russia the following day. Strangely, returning home wasn't a thought that pleased her.  
  
========================================================================  
  
Arvin Sloane was not smiling as he carefully replaced the phone in its cradle. Things had not gone according to his plan. He had been expecting the KBG to only extract Irina, unwilling to risk taking Sydney back with her mother, as well. That Sydney was going with her mother was due only to the interference of Derevko's sister Ekaterina. It was actually quite a clever move on the woman's part. It gave the KGB the appearance that they could actually control Irina's actions.  
  
Katya, as she was called, could actually have become a thorn in his plans. She was a much more skilled and resourceful player than her sister. That made it even more fortunate that he controlled her lover, the Ambassador, and the information that she received through him. Sloane didn't like his plans to be thwarted especially when those plans included Sydney, but at least now this game might provide an interesting challenge. It would make it all the sweeter when he won. He would become an invidious presence slipping unstoppably and unseen into Irina's life. He would have Sydney and he would have Rambaldi.  
  
(2/2)  
  
Okay this is the last part of this. But there will be a sequel coming soon, if anyone is interested. At the moment, the sequel is tentatively titled Force of Fate, but that's likely to change.  
  
The Challenge requirements for this story are:  
  
A meal with three people present at the table. The meal can be either at a restaurant or a house, but you must describe the ambiance (atmosphere) Paint a picture in our minds so we can see their meal and surroundings  
  
Girl scouts  
  
Poison prevention  
  
Use the word, invidious  
  
a spilled drink  
  
Must be an original fic and not previously written with the elements added.  
  
No more than two chapters, and as stated previously, must be completed by the challenge deadline. 


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